


Habit-Forming Behavior

by SapphoIsBurning



Series: Prompts from 11-9-16 [4]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Begging, Bottom A.J., Explicit Consent, Hair-pulling, Hate Sex, M/M, Spanking, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 13:58:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8535850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphoIsBurning/pseuds/SapphoIsBurning
Summary: You wouldn't believe what Dean and A.J. get up to on Tuesday nights. Or maybe you would.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Stylebrose BDSM, as requested.

Dean inhaled through his nose. Baby powder, hotel shampoo, hotel soap, sweat, rubber. His nose brushed against A.J.’s neck and the other man shivered. Dean tightened his grip on the man’s hair.

“What do you say,  _ champ _ ,” Dean spat.

“Please,” A.J. said, his voice breaking.

Dean yanked. “Please what.” He pressed his elbow into the man’s back, grinding into a painful place. He knew all the painful places.

“Please fuck me!” cried A.J.

“Nah,” Dean said.

A.J. sobbed wordlessly, his face pressed into the white duvet of the hotel bed.

“Well.” Dean said. “Not without smacking you around a little more, first. I bet you’d like that. Huh?” He lifted A.J.’s head up so he could answer.

“Yes,” A.J. panted, “yes please, Dean, please.”

Dean let go of his head. “Didn’t say you could use my name. Guess I’m taking that out of your ass too, huh.”

A.J. was already naked. It was part of the routine. Be ready as soon as Dean shows up. He was fingering his own asshole as Dean had walked in the door and threw him back on the bed.

His ass was...fuck. It was phenomenal. Couldn’t deny that. Dean let loose with an open-handed smack. A.J. moaned and pounded the bed with a fist.

“Did you like that?” Dean asked.

“Yes,” A.J. said.

Dean spanked him again, the slap of flesh echoing in the high-ceilinged room.

“Had enough?”

A.J. made a keening noise.

“I’ll take that as a no. If that’s not a no, fucking say something though. Like, ‘ow, stop’ or some shit.”

A.J. pushed himself up on his arms. “I know how to safeword, don’t fucking stop.”

Dean frowned mockingly. “Ooh, now he finds his words.” He went back to the spanking: hard, firm, meticulous, precise. The flesh of A.J.’s ass was bright red with overlapping handprints. Dean admired his handiwork, caressing the abused flesh gently. He rubbed A.J.’s lower back and upper thighs.

“Now will you fuck me?” A.J. asked with a twang.

“You are a whiny fucking bottom, did you know that?” Dean snapped.

“You’re a real gem too, put your damn dick in my ass or I’m gonna spit,” A.J. shot back.

“Ooh, a spitting mad A.J. Styles with his cock out, I’d hate to see that.” Dean shook his head.

“Fuck you,” A.J. said. But Dean was already unbuckling his belt.

His jeans hit the floor, and his boxers, and he was back on top of A.J. They gripped each other, writhing in the other’s grip, until Dean had A.J. pressed up against the headboard. He ground his dick in the crack of the man’s ass.

“I saw you riding your own fingers, A.J., I bet you’re real wet and loose for me, aren’t you.”

A.J. exhaled through his nose. “Always.”

Dean wrapped an arm around A.J.’s chest. He pressed in and A.J. grunted.

“Yes, more,” he huffed.

Dean cut loose. He slammed into A.J., knocking them both flat to the bed. He drove in, snapping his hips as their skin smacked together, the skin of A.J.’s ass hot against Dean’s body. A.J. grabbed at the pillows, just trying to hang on to something.

“Okay A.J., now you can say my name. Better say it loud, too.”

A.J. knew the drill. “Dean. Dean it’s so good, harder. Ah!”

Dean got a fistful of hair, once again. He pulled firmly. A.J. howled.

“Say my name, A.J. Say who’s fucking you. Who’s in charge,” he demanded.

“Dean! Dean Ambrose! Dean, Dean, Dean,” A.J. wept into the pillow. As Dean rocked against him, grazing his prostate with every stroke, A.J. felt himself slipping away, felt the shuddering crest of orgasm come over him even without a hand on himself. “Dean, I’m coming!”

Dean let go of A.J.’s hair. He pulled out and jerked himself hard, and soon enough hot jets of come were painting white strips on A.J.’s ass across the fading red welts from earlier.

And then it was over. Dean fell down on the bed next to A.J. The other man rolled over. They looked each other straight in the eye for the first time tonight.

It was a long staredown. They were close but dare not inch closer. They dared to say and do a lot of things to each other, but kissing was never part of the routine. Still, Dean pulled A.J. into his arms and held him. They lay together, sweat mingling, catching their breaths.

“You suck at aftercare,” A.J. said.

“Go hop on Cena’s dick, I’m sure he’ll treat you like a fucking princess,” Dean said, rubbing circles into A.J.’s back.

“I probably should.”

“Why don’t you?”

A.J. smiled while Dean couldn’t see him. “Creature of habit.”


End file.
